Hello, It's Me
by cutiechelsey
Summary: How well does Sarah know Jareth, really? Are the snap judgements she made on her first visit to the Labyrinth real or overreactions? Somewhere in between?


Hello, It's Me

~ CC

Chapter One

I've Thought About Us For A Long, Long Time

            _Clomp.  Clomp.  Clomp.  _

            Sarah's footsteps sounded empty and hollow in her ears.  She half expected the door to creak as she slowly swung it open.  Everything felt so foreign, so abandoned.  So dead.  

            She hadn't been home in nearly a year.

            Not that this was home anymore.  Not really.  Her father's house was just an empty shell.  Walking through the entryway she kicked up dust – could dust really accumulate this fast?

            She pulled the white covers off the furniture as she passed them.  Karen had made this place look like some sort of wasteland – not that Sarah blamed her.  She paused in front of one of the many family portraits that littered the walls.  Karen had been nuts over professional photographs – or possibly over the photographer, Sarah wasn't sure which.  At any rate, every Christmas they had gone to get their picture taken, the type that adorns Christmas cards and the like.  The most recent one hung above the fireplace in the living room, even though it was years old.  

            Sarah's eyes passed briefly over her own image, hair cropped short (she remembered what a mistake that had been) and lingered over Karen, elegant as ever, Toby, with a mischievous smirk across his face.  And then…

            "Dad."  Sarah sighed softly, running her fingers over his printed face.  He hadn't even looked so sick, then.  She jerked her hand back quickly, however.  She hadn't avoided this place for a year just to get all weepy over a photograph.  

            She turned away quickly and followed the dulled white carpet steps upstairs to her father's den.  She'd come here looking for her birth certificate, and with that in mind she resolved to ignore her old room, or anyone else's for that matter.  

            There were no white covers on the furniture in this room.  The books were disarranged, most likely as her father had left them.  That was what was going to make this particular chore not-so fun – her father had no remote sense of organization.

            Scrambling through his desk, Sarah impatiently wafted through old newspapers, case records and golf scores.  She pulled apart two scribbles apparently done by Toby, that were stuck together with – was that gum?  Sarah laughed under her breath.  Not wanting to waste time with this fabulous system of organization, Sarah perched on the end of his cluttered desk and tried to think of where her birth certificate might be.  True enough, she could _probably get a passport without it, but that would take too much time.  Joseph had been adamant in leaving as soon as possible._

            _Crazy man, Sarah thought, as she left the office and headed up to the attic.  __I've known him for two months and he wants to take a trip to Europe.  Sarah was twenty-four and at that distinctly icky age where her friends had started to get married.  It was the unavoidable question, whenever she introduced a new boyfriend to them: "So, is he the one?"_

            What one?  Why should there be a one?  There was no "one" as far as Sarah was concerned.  Not that she had managed to shake off her idealist teenage ideas, certainly not.  She still thought the idea of a true love cute, quaint even.  But possible?  Not from what she saw.  

            However, Joseph did have distinct possibilities.  He could always make her smile, and they had never fought, not really.  Sarah couldn't think of a time when he had upset her, as a matter of fact.  He was spontaneous, wanting to jet off to Europe at a moment's notice.  And it didn't hurt that he was dead sexy.

            The door to the attic _did creak when she pushed it up and open, and she found it quite satisfying.  She pulled the dangling rope above her head to flick on a light, although a steady stream of sunlight was still pouring through the window on the far wall.  Sarah rolled her eyes at the stacks of labeled boxes – her mother had been a packrat, but had taken very few of her things when she moved out.  Rather than letting her father shove it all in a closet, or worse, throw it away, a ten-year-old Sarah had carefully folded, stacked and labeled everything in her childish scrawl._

            Sarah really had no idea if her birth certificate could be found up here, but faced with the choice of searching her deceased father's things or her run-away mother's, her mother's were just more easily handled.  She had had lots of time to get a handle on that pain.

* * *

The hours that passed found Sarah in a determined rush, making a complete mess of books, plates, ticket stubs and burned-through aprons.  She gave into the aching of her back and flopped down on the hardwood floor momentarily, and shot an appraising eye over the rest of the boxes she hadn't torn open yet.  The one marked _lingerie made her laugh, she remember how horrified she had been at her mother's lacy unmentionables when she had packed them away fourteen years ago._

            Shoving a box marked _books_ closer to herself with her foot, Sarah pulled away the packing tape and rummaged through bent up editions of Shakespeare and Bronte and yanked out a baby book.

            "Score and a half."  She murmured softly to herself, quickly flipping though the pages.  Eyes lighting upon her birth certificate she gently tugged it away from the page it was taped to, then slid it into her pocket.  Standing up, the book tumbled to the floor from her lap and with a soft _whoosh_ some tied together papers fell out of the back.  Sarah stooped down to put them away, but curiosity overcame her, and she untied them, taking a guilty glance around, as though someone might come and scold her for snooping.

_Dearest Robert,_

            You must be absolutely furious by now.  But then, you always were, won't you?  I'm sorry we have to leave things like this…

            Sarah's eyes widened in surprise as she read.  Her father had never said much about her mother after she left, and this letter was something she had never known existed.  The thought of her father brought her less pain than she expected.  In fact, all other thoughts left her as she continued reading, groping her way down the stairs to get out of the musty air of the attic.

* * *

            Jareth was dreaming.  Less a dream, than a memory, painting itself a dozen times behind his eyelids.

            He was perched outside her window, the last time he had seen her up close.  _You say you need us all, Sarah?  _ He remembered thinking, watching as a swarm of his subjects descended upon her bedroom.  _Very well.  In your truest time of need, when all else fail you, you will come to me, my Sarah._  Satisfied with the spell he had woven, he had soared away, to take in the beautiful, moonlit night before returning to the Underground.

            But she did not need him.

            He had been content with waiting, had scryed her in his crystal from time to time.  There was no use in denying his affections; all had seen his display at the ball quite clearly – all but the lady in question, of course.  

Petty boys broke her heart a time or two, but that need was not enough, and the King accepted that.  He shifted in his sleep, remembering the day her father died.  Remembering how she sobbed, and thinking, _Ah, now she will call to me._

She never called.

She did not need him.

If his heart was not already broken, the knowledge that his magic, his mystism and power could no longer intertwine with her spark of life – it broke him. 

But a man does not stay broken forever, not when he is an immortal fae, and a King at that.  Jareth was certain to prove to himself that he had no need for her.

But he could not control his dreams.

* * *

… and I can't live this way, Robert, I can't.  And neither can you.  And I'm sorry.  We both know we married too young, had Sarah far too early.  Believe me when I say it's better this way…

A knock on the door made Sarah's head jerk up.  No one lived here anymore, so why would anyone be coming…

"Joseph."  Sarah said, hoping it didn't sound like a groan.  But there was her boyfriend, in the charming flesh, holding a cappuccino and grinning like a maniac.  

"How goes the Great Search?"  _Good._  Sarah wanted to say.  _Great.  I'm done._

"Not so good."

"Haven't found anything yet?"

"Nothing.  Nada.  Zip.  Zilch."  The words kept coming from Sarah's mouth, which was crazy.  She had no reason to lie.

"Well, I'm sure we can find some other form of i.d.  You know what they say," he paused, and Sarah eyed him warily, waiting to see which obnoxious slogan he would pick from the thousands he had stored in his brain.  "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."

"Well you know what I say?  When life gives you lemons, make lemonade, and then throw it in the face of whoever it was that gave you the goddamn lemons until they give you the oranges you originally asked for."

"Ouch."  Joseph replied, though still smiling.  "You sure you still want to do this, Sarah?"

"Of course I do.  I just need some time to work through all this," she said, making expansive gestures with her hands.  

"Do you want help?"

"No."

"Oh, okay then."

"I'm sorry.  I didn't mean it like that.  It's just a by-myself kind of thing."

"Hey, don't worry about it.  If you need me, I'll be, well, pretty much wandering aimlessly until you need me."  Sarah smiled, then kissed Joseph on the cheek and firmly closed the door in his face.

Ignoring the nagging hey-that-wasn't-nice feeling that tugged at the back of her mind, Sarah flopped back onto the uncovered couch in the living room.  She'd only been able to read a line or two of her mother's letter, however, before someone was knocking at the door again.

This time, Joseph waltzed right in without waiting for her to open the door.

"Look Sarah.  I know you're going through some things.  And that's fine, and I want to help you."  He went on in a rush, preventing Sarah from adamantly refusing that she was "going through" anything.  "But if you don't want to go on this trip with me, than say so, because I don't want to play any games and waste my time and –"

"Joseph?  What makes you think I don't want to go with you?  And what makes this all so important all of a sudden?"

"You've just been distant today –"

"I have not!"

"Sarah, talking to you has been like talking to a particularly unresponsive wall!  And it is important to me, because there's things I want to say and things I want to do with you – "

"I'm fairly certain we can do _those _things in this country."  Said Sarah wryly.

"That's not what I meant.  God, Sarah, I want to propose to you and all you can do is interrupt me and play semantics – "

"You want to what?"  Sarah demanded suddenly.  

Joseph turned rather red and mumbled something that sounded like "umwellIuh."

            "Did you mean that, Joseph?  You want to propose –"

            "I didn't mean to say it like that."

            "Well, you've said it, so you can't take it back."

            "I don't want to take it back.  Yes, Sarah, I want you to marry me."

            "Oh."

            "You don't have to answer right away –"

            "Yes."

            "What?"

            "You heard me, Joseph.  Yes, yes I'll marry you."  Before Sarah could say any more, Joseph picked her up in his arms and whirled her in a messy circle landing haphazard kisses on her face.

            It took Sarah the better part of an hour to get Joseph to leave.  She'd agreed to marry him.  God, she'd known him for two months and she agreed to marry him?  Was she insane?  She felt a fluttering sort of happiness, along with a dim sort of other feeling she didn't understand.  She was getting married!  Unable to think clearly, Sarah found herself back on the couch, her throat dry and her mind spinning.

            Not sure what to do, exactly, Sarah picked up the letter again and stared at it with an unblinking gaze, not focusing on a single word until she slipped into a confused sort of sleep.

* * *

            Sarah later thought that she awoke with a jolt, a sudden feeling that all was not right with the world, and that she had damn well better do something about it.  More likely, it was probably the rumble of her empty stomach that woke her.

            Blinking her eyes open, however, Sarah was hit over the head with the realization that things were definitely Wrong.  Dark, smooth sheets brushed against her skin as she sat up, her breath strangled in her throat and eyes wide, hazel mirrors.  She was not in her living room.

            Things were stone, all around, floor, walls and ceiling.  Panic rose steadily through her in waves when she leapt out of the four-poster bed that was most decidedly _not_ her living room couch and stumbled to the window and gawked at the Labyrinth before her.  

* * *

            Jareth sat bolt upright in bed, his senses clouded by his overzealous surroundings of the gilded guestroom.  It took a moment for him to focus, to name the pricking feeling at the back of his neck, behind his eyes and flowing from his fingertips.

            There was an intruder in the castle.

A/N:  Well, what do you think?  Let me know if this is worth continuing – oh, and for those of you who care: Never and Forever isn't dead, I just have massive writers block – oh, not in the sense that I don't know what I want to say next, I just seem unable to put it in words.  At any rate, more of that is coming.  I thought it might help if I put _something_ on paper, though.

Disclaimer: Labyrinth is clearly not mine.  The story/chapter titles are from a Todd Rundgren song, "Hello, It's Me."


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